


Until Last I See You

by magnoliatattoo (theladyinthecape)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Prompt Fill, Rumbelle Revelry 2016, seance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:25:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8587351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyinthecape/pseuds/magnoliatattoo
Summary: Set Post 3x11, "Going Home," Belle mourns Rumplestiltskin until a conversation with Henry in the Library gives her an idea about how to see Rumple one more time. Complete canon divergence post episode.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [13callieb](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=13callieb).



> Written for Rumbelle Revelry 2016.  
> I am the pinch hitter for 13callieb - I hope you enjoy the fic!  
> Thank you to MarieQuiteContrarie for the opportunity to write this as well as being my amazing beta. xoxo

Belle locked the library and turned to smile and wave at Dr. Hopper, who was taking Pongo for his usual evening stroll on the opposite side of the street.The wind was blowing, a cold and wet October wind that pushed clouds over the docks and tangled long curls into her face as she dropped the key in her pocket. After winding her hair into a messy bun, she picked up her bag of books and leftovers from lunch, and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Autumn was usually her favorite season, but the past couple of months had been colder and rainier than normal. The sun had struggled mightily for a few days, surrendering its valiant fight to the clouds and rain. Belle dodged puddles along Storybrooke’s Main Street as she walked to the pawnshop. The stormy weather fit her mood, and it was an excellent excuse to snuggle under a cozy quilt with a good book.

If only she felt like reading.

Belle had started no fewer than five new books in the past eight weeks, never finishing more than a page at a time. She found herself reading and re-reading passages, staring at words on a page but not really seeing them. Occasionally the words would quiver and blur, reminding her that she was simply staring at a book and crying because she’d read a passage that reminded her of _him_.

There was no solace in reading anymore.

The wind picked up and she quickened her pace, needing to get to the pawn shop soon, before the dam broke and she couldn’t hold back the flood of tears. Finally she came upon the aged building, the familiar sight of the blue-grey siding beckoning her to enter. Glancing into the store window, she checked each item off her mental inventory. She had touched nothing since that terrible day. Everything remained exactly where he had placed it, as though moving things would tarnish the memory of him, erase his fingerprints and leave her with less than nothing.

She unlocked the door quickly, letting herself into the dusty and dark shop, the bell above the door jingling merrily to announce her presence to no one. She still expected him to step from behind the curtain leading to the workroom, greeting her with his soft smile and low voice. That was only a fantasy, now. Belle locked the door behind her and removed her coat, and without looking placed it carefully across the glass display case to the right of the entrance. She knew the shop better than she did their home.

The remaining rays of feeble sunlight provided enough light for her to make sure nothing was amiss, and she trailed her fingertips through the dust as she made her way to the back. Storybrooke’s busybodies would sometimes stop in and wrinkle their noses at the mess, making gentle suggestions to clean before she choked on the dust. Belle just smiled and nodded politely, willing them to go away. They would never understand.

Something caught her eye as she headed toward the workroom, so she kneeled in front of the case for a closer look. Watches and jewelry shone back at her; a silver baby rattle cradled in a felt case next to the assorted baubles gleamed with the fading light. She had polished that rattle, not long ago, while her husband had balanced his books. She remembered the sweet smile he gave her when she placed the rattle in the case, the joke of maybe needing it someday themselves, the way he had made love to her behind the display later that night.

She didn’t remember, though, the Ouija board she had placed it next to, and so she did a double-take at the eerie child’s game. The planchette was reflecting the light from the lamp outside, casting a strange, flickering luminescence on the board, and Belle shivered as she stood up.  Caked with dust, the board had clearly been there sometime, and she shrugged off not noticing it until now.

Belle had noticed nothing for a long time.

She turned on her toes and slipped behind the curtain to the workroom, picking up the afghan she had slung over the chair when she left last night. She wrapped it about her shoulders and stepped over to the wrought iron daybed, where she curled her feet under her as she sat on the soft mattress. The small bed creaked under her weight and movement, a comforting sound that reminded her of the moments they had shared in this very spot.

The well burst; the familiar surroundings chipping away at the tenuous dam she had constructed around her heart, and the tears came, the sobs and the wails and more tears than she ever thought her eyes could ever cry.

She curled into the pillow, the lingering scent of him wafting through her sniffles, and cried herself to sleep, as she had done every night since he left her, in this same spot, with the same blanket and the same broken heart.

  
~~~~

“Thank you Miss Belle! Happy Halloween!”

Mary Margaret’s third grade class filed out of the library, where they had visited as trick-or-treaters, and Belle had prepared a full-blown party for them. Cupcakes for now, ghost-shaped bookmarks for later, and a spooky story had rounded out the class visit to the library. Belle had been grateful for the distraction.

“Bye!” she waved at the tiny witches, monsters, and superheroes filing past her and out the door to the waiting school bus. As the last of the children boarded, Mary Margaret lingered at the door, watching her flock.

“How are you, Belle?” Mary Margaret asked, concerned for the young, pretty librarian who now found herself a widow.

Belle looked at the floor and smiled wistfully, appreciating Mary Margaret’s tact and concern, but not wanting to break down in front of her.

“I’m doing okay,” Belle offered, lifting her chin bravely and smiling at her would-be friend. “It’s hard, you know? Knowing that he lived for so many years before I had the chance to meet him. That our paths would cross so close to…the end.” She trailed off, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Mary Margaret gave her a sympathetic nod, and her eyes stung with unshed tears.

“I’d give anything to see him again, for five more minutes, or even seconds,” she admitted, feeling a tear trickle down her cheek.

Mary Margaret pulled her in for a hug, and Belle sniffled and wiped her eyes.

“Please let me know if there is anything David and I can do, okay?” Mary Margaret attempted a smile as she released Belle, and hurried to catch up with her students boarding the bus. Belle watched as the teacher corralled the last of the children up the school bus steps and bounced in after them, jealous that she couldn’t just return to normal as everyone else had since that fateful day.

Later that evening, Belle was shelving the day’s returns when she heard the familiar creaking of the front door. It was five minutes until closing, and she sighed, not ready to face another patron. She was much more interested in closing up and seeking solace in the shop than helping the lonely soul wandering into the library at this late hour.

“Belle!” she heard a familiar voice call out to her from the front desk. Poking her head around the corner of the shelf, she saw Henry Mills throw his backpack on the circulation desk and search the library for her.

“Over here, Henry!” Belle exclaimed, pleasantly surprised by his visit. A visit from his – _her_ – grandson was always a welcome occasion, and Belle crossed the large room quickly to wrap her arms around the boy.

“Hey, Belle,” Henry said, cautiously, returning her hug and searching her face, trying to gain a sense for her mood before launching into the reason for his visit.

“What brings you here this evening?” Belle asked, easing out of the embrace. She plastered a smile on her face and forced herself to concentrate on him. If there was something Henry needed, she wanted to be there for him. He was part of her family now – something tangible that was left of Rumplestiltskin. She would do anything to prolong the moments she had with the growing boy.

“I completely forgot about my Halloween book report, Belle! And tomorrow is Halloween!” Henry threw up his hands in exasperation before covering his face, his long fingers covering his eyes in a sight so familiar that Belle’s heart skipped a beat.

“Let me guess, you haven’t started,” Belle chided gently, smiling as she offered Henry a chair.

“No, I haven’t. I’m freaking out, Belle!” Henry slumped into the chair as Belle sat across from him at the reading table.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Belle placed her hand on his. “I’m sure we can find something sufficiently spooky in here for you to write your report.” She stood, beckoning him to follow her to the back of the library.

Storybrooke Public Library was not large, and where it lacked collections in American History or Science it more than compensated for in its Metaphysics section. When the librarian was married to the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms, magical tomes were a must. Many of Rumplestiltskin’s own books rested on those shelves—books about ghosts, monsters, and other legends and tales not of this world.

“Do you have an idea of what you would like to write about?” Belle asked Henry, who was craning his neck to the side to read the spines.

“No,” he whined, “I haven’t even thought about it! I forgot about the assignment. Mom is disappointed that I forgot, but she offered to magic a report for me for tomorrow.” Henry’s tone was embarrassed. He knew that the easy way out wasn’t the right one, and Belle nodded as he looked up at her.

“Well, no, that wouldn’t be the right thing to do, Henry, but with everything that has happened these past two months, I think your teacher would understand.” Belle offered an olive branch to the young boy.

Henry stood tall and squared his shoulders. _So much like him_ , she thought, watching him make up his mind.

“No. I have to do this myself. Dad said using magic to solve our problems is a step in the wrong direction,” Henry explained. “He said that’s why Grandpa couldn’t let go – he began to depend on magic to solve everything.”

Belle grimaced as Henry referenced his father. _Neal. Baelfire_. He was back in Storybrooke and trying to get to know his son, thanks to Rumple’s sacrifice. Of course, Rumple would be proud that Neal was teaching Henry to do the right thing, to not rely on magic, but she couldn’t help but feel a stinging pain in her heart. The knowledge that Rumple’s magic had put them all here, that he _WAS_ magic; it was the essence of his existence for over 300 years. Now that he was gone, even his magic was being either forgotten or condemned. Fighting back tears, Belle agreed.

“Yes, you should do your report yourself. Of course you should. But not only because magic isn’t the answer, it’s because this way, you will discover a new book, and perhaps a new interest,” she said, hoping Henry would miss her almost-breakdown.

Belle turned to the next shelf before giving away too much of her angst, and began vetting titles that Henry might find interesting.

” _Weird Hauntings, Haunted Heartland_ ,” she called out, losing herself in the task. “ _Vampires: The Occult Truth_ ,” she continued, until a title caught her eye and sent chills up her spine. Pulling the book from its place, she opened it to the first page as Henry stepped beside her.

“ _The Book of Séance_ ,” Henry read. “Hey, that’s great! Some people believe that they can communicate with the dead.”

Eyes wide, Belle continued to stare at the book.

“Belle?” Henry prodded her after a long, silent moment. “Belle? Are you okay?”

Belle’s owlish, unfocused blue eyes wandered to his, and she blinked as she remembered why they were here and what they were doing.

“Oh, Henry, yes… I’m sorry.” Belle quickly reshelved the book, but not before Henry saw the hurt in her eyes, and his face darkened with concern for the librarian.

“Do you miss him?”

“Every moment of every day.”

“Do you want to talk to him?” Henry prodded gently, his empathy far surpassing his young age.

“Oh, Henry,” Belle shivered at the thought of speaking with Rumplestiltskin. What even would she say? Everything they would have talked about before seemed trite now, nothing she could say would adequately describe the pain and longing she felt _. How do you tell someone that you are empty inside?_

“I do. I want to tell him, one last time, how much I love him.” She smiled down at the boy, stopping herself for both their sakes. Deep inside her soul, Belle believed she would someday see Rumple again, but until that day, loneliness and misery would be daily companions.

“You should try a séance!” Henry exclaimed, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Belle chastised the boy in humor, shaking her head furiously, as if she wanted to jar the thought from her mind.  “Remember? What your father told you? Magic can’t solve your problems. Besides, I don’t have magic, and without magic, this is all….entertainment.”

Sensing her discomfort, Henry shrugged and grabbed the book back from the shelf. “Well, you’re right, but I think I’ll use it for my book report. Is that okay?”

“Of course!” Belle agreed a little too quickly, grateful to be able to change the subject. “Let’s get you checked out,” she said, draping her arm over Henry’s shoulders hugging him close to her side, and walked to the front with her dead husband’s grandson.

~~~~~

Henry arrived home a bit later, and found an apple pie his mother had made sitting on the counter. Slicing a large piece and covering it with a large helping of vanilla ice cream, he balanced it in one hand and his book in the other. He ran up to his room and closed the door, eager to devour the mysterious book as well as the pie.

Hours later, the pie had been eaten and Henry was knee-deep in his book report, having gobbled the information about séances with as much enthusiasm and determination as the sweet treat. The click of heels announced his mother’s presence, Regina having returned home from City Hall just a few minutes past seven o’clock. She cracked the door to his bedroom, and peered in. Henry was half-lying in bed with his laptop, furiously typing his book report for school tomorrow, as Regina stepped gently into the room.

“Henry, I see that you are making progress on your report,” she observed proudly. “Do you need my help with anything? I could proofread it for you…”

 “Mom, in this world, do séances work? Like on the outside – not in Storybrooke? Is there enough magic to talk to dead people?” he interrupted her, his brow scrunched in concentration and curiosity.  
“Henry, what do you mean? What book are you reading?” His mother’s voice was sharp as she picked up the hardcover book from his bedside table.

“I’m doing my book report on this book about séances,” Henry said. “Belle and I picked it out at the library today.” Henry’s face softened as he mentioned her, remembering the pain so obvious on her face still, after all these weeks.

“I see,” Regina began, cautiously, as she thumbed through the pages. “What made the two of you decide on this one?”

“Well, Belle found it, and I decided to read it. She misses him so much, Mom. She was frozen by Pan when he died and couldn’t say goodbye. She wants to tell him she loves him,” Henry blurted.

 “Henry, you have such a good heart, a true believer.” Regina smiled as she placed her hand on her son’s shoulder.  “I know you want to help, but this is different. Rumplestiltskin, no matter how much he loved Belle, he was still the Dark One when he died. His ‘ghost’ or spirit – it’s not the same as everyone else,” Regina said as she sank down to the bed, cautious concern flickering in her dark eyes.

“But that’s exactly why it would be okay,” Henry argued. “He was the Dark One, but he still loved. No matter how weak Grandpa was when it came to magic, he _did_ control it. He loved _anyway_.” Henry pleaded with his mom, sending her his most pathetic, begging look.

“Puppy eyes don’t work on me. That was one of your grandfather’s tricks.” Regina attempted to hide a smile. “I know you too well.”

“But mom – “

“Enough, Henry. We don’t have time to discuss this further. Bedtime is in an hour and you still haven’t finished your report,” Regina said.

“Ok.” Henry sulked back into the pillows, pulling his laptop up with him.  Stupid Halloween book report. Why couldn’t he help with something that was actually important?

“You know, I had a very difficult and confusing relationship with Rumplestiltskin,” Regina said, sensing his frustration. “But I miss him too. He was your grandfather. He was my teacher. He was part of all our lives, and now he is gone. But magic is unpredictable in this world, and I don’t want you messing with it.”

“But you could try,” Henry said, avoiding his mother’s gaze by squinting at the laptop screen. “You could try to help Belle. You just don’t want to.”

~~~~

Belle glanced back over her shoulder as she prepared to close the library for the day, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She had sent Henry home with his book, turning off the lights as he left, happy to have visited with him but ready to be alone with her pain and sadness. Her stomach grumbled. With the visits from the school children earlier and Henry just now, she hadn’t found time to eat lunch, and the salad she had packed was likely quite wilted. Thinking that she had best figure out some dinner plans, the smell of Granny’s diner caught her at exactly the right moment, bringing a long-absent smile to her face.

She would get a hamburger. To go, of course. And maybe a nice bottle of pinot noir to go with it. _Gods knew she could use a drink._

With a renewed sense of purpose – and hunger – Belle trudged across the street to Granny’s to place her order. As she stepped inside, she heard a hush come over the dining room, one she had grown accustomed to. Shushed voices and whispers and sympathetic looks had become commonplace since Rumple had died. She understood that most of the townsfolk were wary of her – they were before, too, suspicious of the bride of the Dark One. But the sad look on their faces was really what hurt, knowing they felt sorry for her and yet relieved for her at the same time. She could handle their judgment, but she could not abide their pity.

Granny handed Belle her order, wrapped neatly in a white bag with extra fries and a chocolate chip cookie. Belle went to pay the kind older woman, but her money was refused, Granny muttering something about finally seeing Belle eating again being payment enough. Belle strode to the door and flung it open wide, the change of pace and surroundings lightening her heart and putting the slightest bounce back in her step.

As she walked up the sidewalk to the pink – _salmon_ – Victorian, she could not shake the eerie feeling she got every time she came home. Rumplestiltskin - or as he been known to Storyrbrooke, Mr Gold - the proprietor of the stately mansion on the hill  was gone, but something remained, something that would cause her skin to itch and her stomach to roil. As she entered the house, she dropped her bag at the door and went straight for the kitchen, placing her hamburger (extra cheese, no mayo) on a plate with the fries, and poured a very large glass of wine to round out her dinner.

For the first time in a while she felt like eating, her stomach begging to be filled, her mouth watering at the smell of the juicy hamburger. She sank her teeth into the first bite of her savory sandwich, washed it down with a large sip of wine, and settled back into the chair to enjoy her meal. Slipping her heels off underneath the table, she pulled her laptop beside her plate, and with messy fingers she began logging into the screen.

 She did need to catch up on library business, so as she inhaled her dinner, she set to work. The visit from Henry had done her a world of good, for this was the first night since Rumple’s sacrifice that she had actually felt like eating. Struck with an idea to establish regular hamburger dates with her grandson, Belle smiled. Henry was so like his _him_ , she thought; his young, plump cheeks beginning to thin out, his sharp, angular features and warm brown eyes so reminiscent of Rumple’s. Stopping herself before she slipped into an abyss of sad thoughts about their family and the family that might have been, she refocused on work. Popping three fries into her mouth at once, she began ordering some more books to add to the library’s Classical Literature section, thanks to last week’s sizeable and anonymous library donation.

With each sip, however, her resolve to forget her conversation with Henry loosened.  Soon she found herself Googling terms like “séance,” “communicate with the dead,” and “spirit worlds.” Maybe the wine was clouding her judgment, but as she delved deeper into the research, she was surprised to find that Ouija boards were used often in séances, and remembered the one at the shop. Emboldened with her new knowledge, she continued the search, finding tips on candle placement and incense commonly used in séances.

”Halloween is the perfect night for séances,” Belle read aloud. Mopping up the ketchup on her plate with her last few fries, she chewed furiously and formed a plan.

To hell with caution. Tomorrow, she was going to see Rumplestiltskin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle performs the seance with help from an unlikely ally, and both she and Rumple find closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just like all my fics, this one had a mind of its own. Thank you to MarieQuiteContrarie for being awesome and cleaning up my messes. :)

Belle woke Halloween morning with anticipation, feeling more alive than she had in weeks. The evening before had been the first since Rumplestiltskin’s death that she had not cried herself to sleep. Whether it was the wine, or the full meal, or her plan that gave her a full night of dreamless sleep, she did not know, but she was loathe to question it. Refreshed, she sprang out of bed to begin her day.

As she readied herself for work, Belle continued to plot and plan. She placed five candles in her bag, along with sticks of frankincense, matches, and reference books. She ate a quick breakfast of oatmeal with blueberries and honey, and dressed in her –  _ his  _ – favorite blue dress. She smiled as she remembered how he would play with the soft lace overlay, gingerly tracing it with his fingers, telling her how the color matched her beautiful blue eyes. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his hand looping around her back, pulling her close.

The ache of missing him was a gnawing, bottomless pit. Resolute, she opened her eyes and squared her shoulders. Today, Belle was going to get the closure she so desperately needed.

 

~~~~~

 

She was re-shelving books in the Young Adult section when she heard someone walking towards her, the padded footsteps drawing nearer. She rose from her bent position and pivoted, coming face-to-face with Neal – _Baelfire._ _Rumplestiltskin’s son_. His warm brown eyes lowered to catch hers, bright with surprise.

“Neal!” She threw her arms around his neck spontaneously, desperate to be close to anything – or anyone – that connected her with Rumple.

Neal's arms faltered a bit, surprised by Belle’s attack of an embrace, but they quickly rose up to hug her in return, her warm embrace a comfort to the newest resident of Storybrooke.

She saw him as a stepson, not a stranger, although they had only known each other a short while.

“Hey, Belle,” Neal spoke with effort and care. The emotions they both felt were raw, still, after several weeks of missing his father.   Standing side-by-side at the scene of his death had bound them together in ways he still didn’t quite understand. He wanted to have a relationship with Belle, but he had no idea what that relationship looked like.

Belle forced a smile in the awkward silence, and wiped away tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes. 

“What brings you to the library this afternoon?” 

“Henry stopped by after school before going home to Regina’s,” he explained. While he and Emma were working on rekindling their relationship, the newly-forming Swan/Mills/Cassidy family had decided it would be best for Henry to remain with Regina, but the young man saw his birth parents every day; all parties anxious to make up for lost time.

“He asked me to bring this book back to you if I went out,” Neal finished, trailing off once again into that place where he had nothing to say. He held out the book on séances, a question in his eyes.

“Thank you. Henry is such a great kid.” Belle’s glanced down at the book and an embarrassed heat rose in her cheeks. She didn’t want Neal to know about the séance she was planning, not after learning what he had said to Henry. Guilt rose in her chest, crowding out her embarrassment.  Belle was ashamed to admit that she didn’t want to share any moments she could steal with Rumple, not even with his son.

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” Neal said, smiling, his warm brown eyes the amber bridge of generations, connecting Rumple and Henry across realms and years.

Belle realized how selfish she was being, wanting to keep any contact with Rumple to herself. Drawing a deep breath, she decided to test the waters.

“Neal…do…um, do you ever try to talk to Rumplestiltskin?” She cleared her throat. “Your father?”

“What, you mean like, pray?” Neal’s eyes glistened cheekily. Religion didn’t belong in Storybrooke, not the religion he had learned from his time with the Darlings, at least.

“No, I mean, just… do you ever find yourself needing to talk to him? Wanting to see him?” Belle dropped her gaze from his teasing eyes to the worn wood of the book cart.

“Belle… Papa and I…. you know, we didn’t communicate much, and that was part of the problem.” Neal struggled to explain his feelings. “He and I are – were – so different. Even with everything I have seen and all that I know, I don’t…. I try to stay away from all that,” he said, trepidation and insecurity evident in his shaky voice.

“You mean magic. I understand,” Belle nodded and looked back up to Neal, her eyes reddening as she swallowed unshed tears. “I just have this need – I feel like everything was left so unfinished.  If I could only say goodbye…” Belle’s voice trailed off and her gaze focused on something long in the distance, before shaking her head slightly to refocus on her guest.

“How is Emma?” Belle asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“She’s great!” Neal exclaimed, his smile returning. “And she’s waiting for me at Granny’s. I better get going,” he said. “It was good seeing you, Belle.”

“You too, Neal.” Belle smiled warmly as her stepson turned to go.

Glancing over his shoulder as he opened the large doors to step out into the late afternoon, he called back to Belle.

“You should come by sometime, have dinner with us,” he called over the whoosh of air blowing in through the open door. “You’re family, you know… you are always welcome.”

A single tear slipped from Belle’s cheek as she raised her hand in a small wave.

“Thank you, Neal,” she called out, as he turned to leave. “I’d like that.”

~~~~~

Belle balanced a large stainless steel bowl full of candy on her arms, using her entire upper body to heft the unwieldy tub to the front of the library. She wasn’t keeping the library open this evening for trick-or-treaters, but she didn’t want them to leave empty handed, either. Bumping the door open with her hip, she sat the overflowing bowl on the nearby park bench and taped her handwritten “ONE PIECE ONLY” sign to the front, and went back inside to wipe down the circulation desk.

Satisfied that her duties were complete for the evening – the library had been fairly slow on this Halloween – she grabbed her bag and sweater and locked up for the evening. Stepping out into the cool evening air, she absorbed the happy sound of the giggles and shouts from the children trick-or-treating up and down the side streets, the mouthwatering aroma of burgers and fries from Granny’s diner. The evening held promise, she thought, for everyone, big and small: the children whooping in excitement and grumbling from tummy aches from too much sugar, the adults grinning in delight to see each and every miniature ghost, superhero, and princess that rang their doorbell.

Belle hurried across Main Street and quickly unlocked the door to the pawnshop, slipping inside lest someone see her. She kept the door locked and lights off, not wanting to alert the townspeople to her presence, and certainly not inviting trick-or-treaters in.

Hands shaking, Belle began the ritual by lighting a stick of incense and placing it in a burner, her nerves soothed by the woodsy scent. It reminded her of Rumple, and she smiled that it seemed to be a perfect fit for the séance.

Séance. Her smile melted as the full force of what she was planning to do hit her. Was she really going through with this? Her skin prickled, nervous energy enveloped her, a familiar tingle of magic. Suddenly, a red cloud of smoke swirled up from the floor, and Belle gasped in surprise. Regina magicked herself into the center of the shop floor, the flimsy lock on the door no match for her power.

“What are you doing here?” Belle asked, her blue eyes narrowing in suspicion. Regina hadn’t exactly been the biggest supporter of her relationship to Rumplestiltskin. In fact, her evil schemes had torn them apart more times than Belle cared to admit.

Regina took a deep breath and held it; she looked as though she were as uncomfortable as Belle.

“I came to bring you this.” Regina held out a thick, black length of fabric. “I know what you’re planning. This will help.”

Belle reached out and touched a finger to the garment, the dark linen rippling with her touch.

“What – what is it?” Belle asked, nerves quieting and trembling her voice.

“It’s the shroud I gave Rumple. Your – obviously fake – burial shroud,” Regina answered, regret evident in her voice. “When I told him that you had… been killed… I took this as proof.”

Belle shrank back in horror, her hand coming to her throat in a gesture of disgust and fear.

“You want me to use THAT?” Belle cried. “What is wrong with you?” 

There was anguish in Regina’s dark eyes, and Belle immediately softened, feeling contrite for her outburst. Though her methods may be twisted, Belle thought, maybe she was trying to help.

“He…cherished it,” she said quietly. “I know he cried into it many nights. I know that pain was because of me. I’m sorry, Belle. But now you have this special talisman. It will help him find his way to you.”

“How did you know...Henry told you,” Belle answered her own question. “Regina, I am sorry that I lashed out at you. Thank you for bringing this, but I don’t know how to use it. I’m just starting to set up, and I want this to work, but I don’t know what to do…” Belle rambled on, nerves and memories and pain overwhelming her thoughts.

Regina offered a small smile to the pretty librarian. For a brief moment, she felt a pang of guilt for all the hurt she had caused this innocent girl over the past three decades. She and Belle were connected – albeit unwillingly – by their relationship with the same man. Regina knew Rumplestiltskin’s magic, had learned everything from her dark teacher, and Belle loved him. They were the light and dark that Rumple had left behind, and perhaps together, they could succeed. Regina looked around, cautiously, unsure of how to offer that first small olive branch to Belle.

“I can help, if you want?”

Belle’s eyes widened. Regina’s knowledge of magic and the Dark Arts would be invaluable to her efforts, and she was grateful. Belle was desperate to see Rumple and she would take any help she could get.

“Yes, Regina! Oh, that would be great! Here, this is what I brought –“

Regina stepped forward to examine the bag Belle opened, pulling out the candles and matches.

“Five of them. Perfect,” Regina set to work, arranging the candles into a pentagram on the shop floor, large enough for Belle to sit in the middle of the five-pointed star. Taking ash from the incense burner, she sprinkled some in lines between the candles, connecting each one to the other, and stepped back to observe her work.

“There. Now, how will you call him?”

“I have this,” Belle said, pointing to the Ouija board. “My research on séances said that you can use this to call the spirit world.”

Regina fought the desire to roll her eyes at the child’s game, instead nodding in agreement with Belle’s words.

“Perhaps,” Regina said diplomatically, “But, here…” She stepped to the board and waved her hand over it, and the planchette glowed momentarily, a spell having covered it and the wooden board.

“That should ensure a proper communication with another world.” Regina turned to Belle and arched a skeptical brow. “Are you sure you are ready for this?” 

“Yes!” Belle exclaimed without hesitation. She had been ready to see Rumplestiltskin since the day he left, and her research of the past two days had only heightened her need.

“Just… be careful, Belle.” Regina picked up the black shroud. “Wrap this around your shoulders. It will guide him to you, and ward off any other spirits that may try to contact you.”

As Regina wrapped Belle in the shroud, Belle threw her arms around the austere woman, stunning   both Regina and herself. What was wrong with her? This was the same woman who had locked her up in an asylum for thirty years with no memory of who she was. Still, losing Rumple had taught Belle that life was far too short to hold grudges.

“Thank you, Regina,” Belle said, and Regina stiffened in the unexpected embrace. Slowly, she relaxed, bringing her hands up to pat Belle’s shoulders awkwardly. Belle pulled back, sheepish from her emotional outburst, but with warm eyes and a small smile.

“I mean it. Thank you so much for your help.”

“You’re welcome, Belle. It was the least I could do,” Regina said with a sad smile, and turned to leave.

“You know, Henry is a great kid. He sees the good in you, much like I saw it in Rumple. He loves you dearly. Don’t turn your back on that,” Belle advised as she walked Regina to the shop’s door. 

Regina smiled and nodded as she left, and Belle quickly locked the door behind her, ready to perform the séance.

~~~~~

Seated cross-legged in the center of the pentagram, Belle finished lighting the candles. The board rested on her lap, and Belle brought her hands to the planchette, closing her eyes and focusing her concentration to calling Rumplestiltskin.

Her mind’s eye conjured the image of her husband, the first moment she had ever laid eyes on him – seated on her father’s throne, fingers templed, preparing to bargain for forever. The time he caught her fall from the windows; the way he looked at her when she had chipped his teacup. The way he held her that day by the well when she remembered him, the night they married. Image after image of their life together flashed through her mind, and as the board began to vibrate on her lap she opened her eyes.

The planchette moved along the board, her fingers barely touching it. As it began to spell, her eyes welled with tears.

“G.” Belle called softly..

“O.” Her voice cracked, a sob building in her throat, her need to complete the task the only thread holding her emotions together.

“L.” The dam broke, tears beginning to stream down her face, soaking into the shroud and splashing onto the board.

“D!” Belle wailed as she called out the last letter of his Storybrooke name.  Powerful sobs shook her body as she released the board and pushed it off her lap, curling into a sobbing heap in the middle of the pentagram. Wiping her flowing tears on the shroud, she yelled one final time for her True Love.

“Rumplestiltskin!” She called with every ounce of might she could muster, looking up to the ceiling, the sky – to whomever or whatever would hear her plea. As she fell silent, waiting and hoping and fearing, the shroud began to warm about her body, a soothing warmth that felt like an embrace, and she pulled it tighter around her shoulders with the little remaining strength she had.

Shoulders slumped, she began to rise from the floor, her head hung in defeat.  The séance was complete and there was no sign of her dead husband. She began to unwrap the shroud when the tingle of magic crept up her spine.

“Belle.” It was a whisper, a ghost of a voice, and Belle gasped as she felt his presence behind her, the familiar feel of his nose in her hair, and his long fingers came to rest gingerly at her waist.

Belle spun around in her excitement, almost tripping over herself, and slumped into him, her hands traveling over his body to convince herself he was really there.

“Rumple! Rumple! You’re here!” Fresh tears of relief filled her eyes again, and she brought her hands to his face, gazing up into his strange amber eyes, finding the glint of the candlelight dancing in his irises, and as he locked his gaze to her, their lips crushed together in a consuming kiss.

Belle pressed her lips hard against his, her mouth open and tongue searching, exploring, meeting his in this most intimate dance. Their kiss was desperate, needy, as though they would swallow each other , only pulling apart when Belle gasped for air.

“Oh Rumple, it’s really you.” Belle sighed, and his forehead tilted forward to rest against hers. 

“Belle, sweetheart, yes, I’m here.“ Rumplestiltskin pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly, and buried his face into her neck, peppering her warm skin with tiny kisses and nibbles. 

Finally, after what could have been minutes or hours, Rumple raised his head back to study Belle’s face.

“Belle, what have you done? Why would you play with dark magic like this?” He brought his hands up to cup her face, her tearstained cheeks soft against his golden-green scales.

“I needed you Rumple.  I needed to tell you I love you.”

“Oh, my sweet, brave wife,” Rumple said, pride and worry mixing in his reptilian eyes. “I love you, sweetheart, always, death does not change that,” he said, tenderly, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. “But this is dark magic, and as unpredictable as it is here…”

“I researched it, Rumple, and I had help,” Belle’s voice was soothing, not wanting to alarm him, beseeching him to trust her.

“Help?”

“Yes, Regina helped me. She gave me this.” Belle bent and lifted the shroud off the floor, bringing it between them to show  Rumplestiltskin, who caressed it with shaking fingers.

“Oh, Belle. I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart,” Rumple brought the shroud to his cheek, caressing it. “This is what called to me. I felt the pull of your love…it was your tears. They mixed with the ones that I cried in in the Dark Castle,” he explained to her as he realized the magic that had brought him back. 

“True Love,” he concluded, smiling faintly and pulling his wife tighter to him.

“You always said there was no greater magic.” Belle smiled as she laid her head against his thick dragonhide coat, her fingers dipping beneath the lapel to caress his lean, strong chest.

“It has saved us more often than not,” Rumplestiltskin agreed, dropping the shroud  to the floor, preferring to use his hands to hold his wife. 

“I’ve missed you so much, Rumple. These two months – they have been hell without you.” 

“Oh Belle, my love. Tell me you don’t miss an old monster,” Rumplestiltskin teased softly, beginning to sway back and forth with Belle in his arms, a dance to no music but the cadence of their voices. 

“I miss you so much, it hurts, Rumple,” Belle said, closing her eyes and relishing his presence. “I feel sick all the time, I cry every time someone mentions your name.” She sighed, her voice tired, weeks of mourning finally taking their toll.

“I see Henry and Neal and I can’t help but picture you,” she said, tears threatening to well up again.

“Shhh, my dear.” Rumple silenced her with  a warm, soft, wet kiss that conveyed all that he could not say, though when he broke the kiss he couldn’t help but repeat those three words.

“I Iove you.”

Belle smiled and stepped back. There was so much she wanted to say, but having him there, none of it seemed important in the moment. She could tell him every day for the rest of forever how much she loved him, but that wouldn’t be enough, nothing could replace having him with her. 

“How long do we have?” Belle’s eyes glinted in the low candlelight. 

“I don’t know,” he said, pulling her back to him, his arms circling her waist and resting on her belly. They held each other, relishing every moment they could steal, not wanting to be apart for one nanosecond. “It’s no matter, it would never be enough,” he said, his voice cracking softly. 

“Where you are, are you… okay?” Belle asked , afraid that the answer would be no. 

“Where I am is neutral,” Rumple explained, not wanting to go into detail. “But I’m glad. I am glad that I did what I did. I rid Storybrooke of my father and the Darkness at once, and I made sure that you and Bae and Henry are safe.” 

Belle leaned back into him, turning her head and nuzzling into his neck. 

“You sacrificed yourself for us,” Belle said. “That took courage, Rumple. You are a hero,” she smiled up to him, her heart swelling with pride as the tears welled in her eyes once more.

“Mmm.” Rumple embraced her tighter. “And knowing that you, my family…are safe, that is all the happy ending I need.”

Belle fell silent, hating the anger festering in her gut. 

“Where is my happy ending?” she asked sadly, unable to quell her bitterness.

“He is here,” Rumple said as he moved his hand in a small circle on her lower abdomen. As he did, a warm, fluttering  made Belle catch her breath, her small hand coming to rest on his as it caressed her belly.

“I’m pregnant.” Her voice was barely a whisper, the overwhelming emotions of joy and sadness, elation and fear warring within her heart.

“About nine weeks, now,” Rumple explained, and Belle turned to face him. 

“What?…. I can’t do this alone!” Belle was overcome by shock and worry, and she released Rumplestiltskin to wrap her arms around herself, the room suddenly chilly.

“You will always have a part of me with you,” Rumple said. “Take care of him.” 

Belle looked up to her love, realizing that his voice sounded farther away, his corporeal form slowly evaporating into an image.  She realized the spell was ending, and their time together had come to an end. 

“No! Please, don’t go!” Belle wailed loudly, stepping  into his fleeting embrace. “I need you, I don’t want to do this without you.”

“Belle, you will always have the best parts of me. In Neal, in Henry, in our son.”

“But I promised you forever! You promised me forever!” Belle cried.

As Rumple’s form began to slowly vanish, Belle stepped back to watch him go. 

“One last kiss for an old monster?” Rumple asked, his forlorn smile not reaching his eyes.

Belle lifted up on her toes, tears of acceptance flowing freely, and moved to place a tender kiss to his lips. As her warm lips, wet from tears, met his cool, dry ones, a flash of light burned her eyes and a pulse of energy pushed her back, and as he faded from this realm, Belle watched as Rumple’s  mottled, craggy face became smooth and tanned, his eyes darkened from amber to deep brown, and his curly, unruly hair became straight and soft. 

The Dark Curse had broken, once and for all. Belle and Rumplestiltskin’s final meeting had been ordained by the Fates, their kiss powerful enough to transcend death itself. 

Alone in the room with only the cold Oujia board and five sputtered candles for company, Belle smiled to herself and splayed her fingers across her abdomen where a new life had taken hold.

Not even death, it seemed, could stop True Love.


End file.
